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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747794">no need to scream (i got you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries'>Blueberries (Blueberries_Pen)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crying, Hanging, Kinktober 2020, M/M, No beta we die like mne, Noncontober 2020, Omorashi, Shota, Suspension, Underage - Freeform, Whumptober 2020, shackled, there was an attempt at knifeplay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:47:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747794</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin wakes up hanging, with a full bladder. </p><p>What could possibly happen? Slade's gonna find out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>no need to scream (i got you)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Blame ao3 user freakedelic. They said nonconwhumpkinktober, by brain said, ‘yes’. I’m a lazy person who’s writing each thing each day, so idk if I’ll finish on time, but yeah. Enjoy. Also, I find writing the scene leading up to the sex scenes easier than the actual sex scenes, so there should be a warning for UST here lol. </p><p>And yeah, this takes place before Robin even left Bruce, basically just after he started flying around on rooftops. </p><p>Day 1:<br/>Kinktober: Omorashi, Knifeplay<br/>Noncontober: underage, shota<br/>Whumptober: Waking up restrained, shackled, hanging</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robin wakes with his entire body aching and his shoulders screaming, and shivers as a goosebumps passes over his naked skin. It’s cold, and colder still around the metal shackles around his ankles and wrists. He still has his shirt and shorts, but his cape is gone. His eyes flicker around - but it’s too dark, shadows all around, he can’t tell if anyone is around, his mask chillingly absent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shivers again, trying not to panic or cry - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Batman will save me -</span>
  </em>
  <span> and cranes his head back, eyes furrowed. The chains from the shackles go all the way up, the pulley holding them so far away. If it weren’t for the shackles around his ankles, the weight on them heavy, he would have flipped up and started working on his lockpicking. Now, though, limbs bound and shoulders hurting, he can barely even move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But for now, he has another problem. For some reason, his tummy feels full and… there’s a pressure in his gut, one he knows well. He needs to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He flushes. He can’t believe he got himself kidnapped and his biggest concern is getting free to go to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bathroom. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bruce will never let him hear the end of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” he calls out, trying to sound brave but his voice comes out high pitched and wavering. “Is anyone there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one answers, and Robin just tries to do a little hop on the tips of his toes, only to </span>
  <em>
    <span>shriek </span>
  </em>
  <span>as it sends pain up his shoulders from the sudden jarring. “Ow…” His eyes burn, and he sniffles a little, lower lip pushed out and trembling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he recovers his composure, he tries again, calling out louder and longer. “Heelllllooooo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not a single reply. Robin huffs lightly, and decides to wait. He squirms a little, trying to relieve the pressure, but no matter long he waits, no one comes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of kidnapper are you?!” he yells out after a while, voice echoing eerily back at him. “I’ve been waiting for hours,” he complains, grumbling. “Idiots.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still no one shows, and the pressure on his arms don’t abate at all, only increasing, and he becomes increasingly unable to squirm, for fear of hurting his shoulders. He tries to focus on breathing, on relaxing, but it just keeps </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurting </span>
  </em>
  <span>and all he wants to do is </span>
  <em>
    <span>cry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why isn’t Bruce here yet? He wants someone to let him down </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His shoulder throbs. His bladder feels like it’s going to burst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything builds and builds and </span>
  <em>
    <span>builds </span>
  </em>
  <span>until-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robin </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams </span>
  </em>
  <span>as his shoulders finally pop out of the joint, unable to handle the pressure. The pain is too much, a wail breaking out of him and once he starts, he just can’t stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying, </span>
  </em>
  <span>tears pouring down his cheeks almost endlessly. They’re hot and wet on his cheeks, and with some horror, he realizes that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’re not the only thing that’s wet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s - he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>wetting </span>
  </em>
  <span>himself, like he hasn’t since he was a toddler still in diapers, but his shoulders are </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>aching, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he just can’t stop. The hot wet patch on his pants only grow larger and larger, yellow liquid running down his legs and toes and pooling at his feet. He cries, and keep crying, because the humiliation of doing something so </span>
  <em>
    <span>childish </span>
  </em>
  <span>has him so embarrassed. And Batman would see him like this, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>want that to happen, and -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robin’s sobs quieten as he squints into the darkness. “B-batman?” he calls out shakily, hiccuping. It has to be Bruce, because Bruce will let him down, won’t yell at him until he’s safe, wil take him back </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I leave you alone just for a minute and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>happens,” a man says, sounding amused as he steps out of the darkness. “You really are a child, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robin’s eyes widen. It’s not Bruce, but he recognizes the mask from snooping through the Batcomputer. “Deathstroke,” he whispers, then blinks. He wants to protest that he’s not a child, but his shoulders hurt so much he can’t even move them, and he just can’t stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Just let me down,” he whispers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You recognize me, hm? Clever boy,” the man speaks as he comes closer, boot making a splash as it hits the puddle, and Robin can’t help but let out another involuntary shiver as he notes how much bigger he is than Robin. He has to crane his head up to look at him. One eye, blue and icy, looks down to regard him and grips his chin. “Clever,” he muses, eyes flicking down. “Clever, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>messy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Wetting yourself at this age? What are you, two?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>nine,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Robin protests, but his cheeks burn and the vision in front of him blurs with new tears. “It hurts. Please put me down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deathstroke laughs, sounding amused. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he says, and flicks open a penknife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robin freezes. “What - what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh, you don’t need to be scared,” and his voice is so gentle Robin wants to believe him, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>putting away the knife. “Don’t move, little boy. You wouldn’t want to get hurt now would you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robin whimpers, trying to jerk back, but he’s shackled and hanging and there’s nowhere for him to run to, only a scream escaping him as it makes his shoulders burn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Silly child, you’re going to get yourself hurt like this,” Deathstroke chides, sounding exasperated. He takes the point of the knife, carefully hovering it just a millimeter away as he drags it over Robin’s chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robin’s cries only increase. “Stop- </span>
  <em>
    <span>wwah!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he screams, as the knife suddenly raises and comes down, the blade flashing in front of his eyes several times before finally stopping. Robin’s still crying when he realizes that he’s not hurting anywhere new. He hiccups, his confusion clearing as he realizes that Slade’s pulling away scraps of his uniform.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he’s protesting for another reason. “Stop that!” He’s not - you’re not supposed to expose yourself to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>enemy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t want to keep wearing such dirty clothes, do you?” Deathstroke asks, voice far too reasonable. “They stink, and you don’t want to smell, do you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it’s his </span>
  <em>
    <span>uniform. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s supposed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>protect </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. “Just let me down, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he begs. He cries, sobs only increasing as the man’s hands hook onto the sides of his shorts. No. No no </span>
  <em>
    <span>no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He doesn’t want to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>naked </span>
  </em>
  <span>in front of this man. “Don’t take it off </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deathstroke pulls it down the soaked clothes without hesitation, leaving Robin entirely exposed and Robin </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, the humiliation burning him inside out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a pretty boy,” he murmurs appreciatively, like Robin’s some ware at a marketplace, and it makes his skin crawl. Then Slade touches his cock, and that makes Robin flinch back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What - what are you -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look,” Slade interrupts, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>small. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just like you. You are such a child aren’t you, hm? What was the Bat thinking, letting a kid like wander so freely, hm? You need someone to look after you properly.” He lets go, and Robin just stares at him with wide tear eyes, mute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t understand what the man wants from him, but he doesn’t like it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shackles release so suddenly he shrieks, arms screeching again as they’re disturbed from their position. He almost falls, but Deathstroke catches him in his arms and picks him before he can hit the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His whole body hurts and feels far too sticky. He wants to push the man away but his arms don’t seem to be listening to him and it just hurts too much. “It hurts,” he whispers, turning his face and burying it in the man’s chest so he doesn’t have to look at him. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine it’s Bruce instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, pretty little boy,” Deathstroke croons, arms tightening around him. “From now on, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>take care of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed ^^</p></blockquote></div></div>
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